


Caught in the Tide

by brinnanza



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:06:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnanza/pseuds/brinnanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He takes one look at the boy, his pale skin, the dark bags under his red-rimmed eyes, and breathes a soft sigh.</p>
<p>“Oh, Anakin,” he says gently and steps aside to let his former padawan into the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught in the Tide

**Author's Note:**

> Nominally takes place shortly after Anakin and Padme's brief break up in The Rise of Clovis, but could reasonably take place after any of Anakin and Padme's presumably frequent fights/brief break ups. Anyway, this is largely Obi-Wan meta disguised as fic.

It’s quiet in Obi-Wan’s quarters at this late hour, and his mind is at peace. The Force surrounds him, and he surrenders to it, letting it wash away the day’s trials like a calming sea.

At once, the Force is a roiling sea, burning with the sharp, crimson taste of rage, of fear, of guilt, of the suffocating press of grief boiling too near the surface and spilling out to drown anyone in range.

Anakin.

Obi-Wan is up and opening the door before he has to knock. He takes one look at the boy, his pale skin, the dark bags under his red-rimmed eyes, and breathes a soft sigh.

“Oh, Anakin,” he says gently and steps aside to let his former padawan into the room.

Anakin passes him but stops in the middle of the room, clenching and unclenching his fists reflexively. He looks for all the galaxy like the lost, lonely little boy Qui-Gon brought to Coruscant all those years ago. “Master,” he says, his voice breaking. “Master, I think I--I think I messed up.”

Obi-Wan ushers Anakin over to the worn, brown sofa and they sit. Anakin stares at his hands clenched in his lap, his shoulders hunched, and lets his hair fall to cover his face. “Padme--” he starts, then breaks off again. He looks up at Obi-Wan through his lashes, guilt written all over his sharp features, and Obi-Wan remembers he isn’t supposed to know about Anakin’s secret affair with the senator. Subtlety has never been one of Anakin’s strengths, and Obi-Wan isn’t a fool, but plausible deniability had always seemed the most prudent course of action.

He wants to reassure Anakin that he knows, that he’s always known, that he’s not mad, but he settles for what he hopes is a comforting pat on the hand.

“She doesn’t want to see me anymore,” Anakin says finally.

There’s a reason the Code forbids attachments. It’s not this, Obi-Wan thinks, to prevent this ocean of pain, unending and too big for either of their skins, but it should be.

Anakin looks up at him again, face crumpled and miserable. His shoulders start to shake, and there’s something cold and piercing in Obi-Wan’s chest. Anakin may not formally be his responsibility anymore, but Obi-Wan will always feel the same bone-deep need to keep him safe, to shield him from the galaxy and its ills. 

He knows he’s never been able to properly express the depth of affection, of _attachment_ he isn’t supposed to feel for his former padawan but does. Not in the way Anakin needs. But he thinks back years to when Anakin was small and frightened and alone, and he thinks he knows what to do.

“Master, I--” Anakin starts. Obi-Wan nods once, and Anakin collapses against him, burying his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan pulls him in, one arm tight around his shoulders, the other stroking through Anakin’s hair.

Anakin lets go then, sobbing brokenly into Obi-Wan’s chest as Obi-Wan murmurs comforting nonsense to the top of his head. “Shh, I’ve got you,” he whispers. “It’ll be alright.”

It’s been years since they’ve done this--Anakin hasn’t sought Obi-Wan’s comfort after a nightmare in nearly a decade. It’s a little awkward now that Anakin has grown so tall, but Anakin curls his knees up to his chest and they make it work.

When Anakin’s sobs subside, he remains tucked into Obi-Wan’s side, taking deep breaths to steady himself.

He raises his head. “She doesn’t trust me,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “She doesn’t--” His voice cracks and he presses his face against Obi-Wan’s chest again. “She doesn’t trust me.”

Obi-Wan waits, but Anakin doesn’t elaborate. He knows there’s more to it than that: He can feel the vague unease in Anakin’s Force presence, can see the way Anakin doesn’t look up. He doesn’t press. Instead, he rubs circles on Anakin’s back and tries to project peace to still the ripples Anakin makes in the Force. He has calmed considerably, but he’s far from the serenity of the Jedi ideal.

In truth, Obi-Wan is quite out of his depth, though he keeps his disquiet locked away within the privacy of his own mind. He wishes he had some advice for his former padawan beyond the same old entreaties to release his emotions into the Force, to let go of his attachments. Those platitudes have never worked on Anakin--have never really worked for Obi-Wan either, if he’s being honest with himself (which he rarely is).

Because Obi-Wan has known loss, the kind that consumes the soul and blocks out any hope of seeing the light again. The pain he felt (feels, always feels) losing Qui-Gon reminds him of this ocean of grief. Even Satine’s death is a wound that still pulses on the rare occasions he permits himself to acknowledge it as a loss.

But of course, Padme isn’t dead. It isn’t as if Anakin can never see her, never speak with her. For a brief moment, Obi-Wan is irrationally furious. Death seems to follow him, a greasy stain on everything he touches. Even if Anakin never speaks to Padme again or sees her face, she’s still _alive_ , her presence a constant hum in the Force. What Obi-Wan would give to feel the steady presence of his former master again, even for a moment, even across a vast, insurmountable distance--

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and clarity prevails, the anger fading. Anakin has his losses too, and the ones they share. Pain is not a competition (and Obi-Wan remembers how it felt to leave Satine the first time, so many words unsaid).

_There is no chaos_ , he tells himself. _There is harmony._

“Shh,” he tells Anakin. “I’m here.” Obi-Wan is no stranger to loss. “I know.”


End file.
